


East of the Sun

by eiqhties



Series: It Looks Ugly, but It's Clean [2]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Getting Together, Language of Flowers, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 14:23:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11946117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiqhties/pseuds/eiqhties
Summary: Noora keeps waking up to flowers.





	East of the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This is theoretically a part of my magical realism series, but the two fics don't intersect with each other at all. You don't need to read one to read the other!

Noora swears that flowers are appearing around her where they never were before.

Today, she’d emptied some dead flowers out of a vase and then gone to the bathroom; when she’d come back, the vase had a branch of bright yellow wattles in them.

*

“That’s stupid,” Sana says, staring at the vase in suspicion when Noora brings it up that evening, “Flowers don’t just appear out of nowhere.”

“I know,” Noora says back, scowling, “That’s why I’m telling you all; I thought one of you might know where they came from.”

“Did you ask Eskild and Linn?” Vilde asks. She’s painting her nails light pink, the smell of the open bottle permeating through Noora’s bedroom, masking any scent of flowers.

“Yes,” Noora says, “Both of them said that they didn’t put them there.”

“They’re Australian flowers, you know,” Chris says, squinting at an article on her phone, “Oh, and they mean _secret love_. Perhaps you’ve got a secret admirer, eh? Some secret Australian hunk,” She waggles her eyebrows ridiculously, and Sana huffs out a laugh, shaking her head at her friend. Chris kicks her affectionately in the thigh, and Sana grabs her ankle. 

Noora rolls her eyes at the two of them, picking up a pillow from her bed and chucking it loosely in Chris’ direction. Vilde shrieks when Chris nearly topples into her as she dodges it; the movement causing Vilde to knock the bottle of nail polish, nearly spilling it. 

“You know, Noora,” Vilde says, when she’s straightened everything up and shoved Chris away from her, “Maybe it’s _magic_.”

Noora blinks, “What?”

“Come on,” Vilde rolls her eyes, “You have to have heard the stories?” She looks at Noora, her eyes wide and intense. Chris, beside her, nods.

“What stories?” Noora asks.

“The stories! About people that can do magic. You know, like the _X-Men_ , and stuff.”

“None of that has ever been proven,” Sana points out. Vilde sighs.

“Don’t be so boring, Sana, I don’t know if it’s because it’s against your religion-”

“It’s not,” Sana says, her jaw goes tight. Chris sighs loudly, shooting Vilde a look.

“Vilde,” She says.  

“Okay, sorry, it’s not about your religion,” Vilde says, holding her hands up, “But you should have a more open mind, Sana! There’s a lot of stories about it. It could be possible, for all we know. I mean, maybe you really do have an admirer, Noora, and they’re _magic_ ,” Vilde claps her hands together, smiling. She looks delighted by the whole thing, “Maybe the flowers are something to do with that.”

Noora looks to Eva, who’s sitting, oddly silent in the corner of the room. When she meets Noora’s eyes, she looks away.

*

Sometimes, Noora still finds herself leaving enough space on the bed for someone else to press in beside her, as though she’s so used to William’s presence that she can’t stop accommodating for it.

When she wakes up there’s a chestnut bud on the pillow beside her instead of a boy that was too silent, too withdrawn.

Noora puts the bud in water beside the wattle branch, and smiles when she looks at the two of them.

*

Isak looks startled when Noora sits down beside him. He’s sitting alone at the table, though Noora can see Jonas in the café’s queue.

“Um, hi,” Isak says, he flicks closed his book and looks at her, mouth pursed, “You don’t normally speak to me.”

“I know,” Noora says, she shifts uncomfortably in the seat, “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Isak shrugs, “I get that I stole your room for a while, or whatever. And I was really mean to you when we both lived in the flat, we weren’t really going to get on that well.”

“You were going through some stuff,” Noora says, Isak’s mouth curls at the corner.

“That’s an explanation, not an excuse. I could have been nicer to you,” He huffs out a breath, “I could have been nicer to everyone.”  

“I was going through some stuff too,” Noora presses on. This time, Isak smiles properly.

“I guess both of us going through some stuff is an excuse, then” He says, still smiling. When he looks at her, his eyes are clear; he looks more knowing than she expected.

“So, did you want to ask me something? Or did I leave something behind in my old room?” He flushes, “Er, other than the toilet paper. Though, thanks for putting that on Instagram.”

Noora laughs, “Any time.”

“Seriously, though, _did_ you want to ask me something?”

Noora bites her lip, looking down at the table. The book that Isak was reading is face down on the table, but the blurb is still visible; it’s a Stephen Hawking one, _The Grand Design._  It feels like a sign.

“You know a lot about science, right?”

“Less than Sana,” Isak says, looking surprised, “She does better than me in all our classes. You haven’t asked her?”

“I have, but this is, um, kind of ridiculous. Sana doesn’t believe me.”

Isak’s eyebrows are raised so high that they’re practically disappearing into his hairline, “Okay, shoot.”

“What do you think about people with magic?”

Isak freezes, mouth falling open slightly. She watches the way his throat works as he swallows, “Um,” He croaks out, eventually, “None of those theories have ever been definitively proven.”

Noora sighs. She should have figured that she’d still get this kind of a response.

“Okay. Could it be possible, though?”

Isak shrugs again, looking over to where Jonas is fumbling with his change at the till, “Sure,” He says, looking at his hands and picking at a nail. The whole conversation seems to be making him uncomfortable, “It’s possible, yeah. It’s possible in the same way that God is possible, or that Schrodinger's cat is both alive and dead. You can’t prove or disprove it until you can see it in front of you.”

“Right,” Noora nods at Jonas, who’s walking over to the table, now, “Thanks, Isak.”

“Anytime,” Isak says, half saluting at her, “Let me know if you prove anything.”

“I will,” She says, smiling at him.

*

Eva comes over that weekend. She’s got her hair in a lazy ponytail, and she’s wearing a soft red jumper dress. Everything about her looks warm and accommodating; Noora wants to lean against her until she falls asleep.

When Eva catches sight of the vase in Noora’s room, she stops. Gone is the wattle branch and the chestnut bud, in it’s place is a bunch of red tulips.

“Did you buy those?” Eva asks, Noora looks at them.

“No,” She says, “They just keep appearing.”

“Do you know what they mean?” Eva says. She’s still staring at them.

“Yeah,” Noora smiles, “They mean perfect love.”

Eva finally turns to look at her. She’s not frowning, but she isn’t smiling, either. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she looks confused.

“Doesn’t it creep you out?” She asks, “You don’t know where they’re coming from.”

Noora shrugs, “I think they’re nice,” She says, “They’re just flowers, Eva.”

“ _Magic_ flowers. Magic flowers that appear in your room without you doing anything.”

Noora laughs, lying back on her bed and looking at her ceiling, arms spread out, “Sure, magic flowers. Magic flowers with romantic meanings. That just makes them even more exciting,” She lifts her head, slightly, raising her eyebrows at Eva, “I have to be the first girl in the world to get flowers that are so special.”

Eva finally laughs, then, walking over to the bed and shoving into Noora’s space, putting her head on Noora’s shoulder, throwing her arm over Noora’s waist.

“You’re so weird,” She says.

Noora tangles her hand into Eva’s hair, and hums slightly, “Sure,” She says, “So are you.”

*

Eva’s drunk at a party. She’s talking to some third year Bakka guy who reminds Noora uncomfortably of William. The guy’s leaning in close, and Eva’s laughing at a joke he’s telling; Noora’s stomach clenches uncomfortably.

“Do I need to intervene?” Even’s voice comes from somewhere behind her, and she jumps, turning around to look at him.

“What do you mean?” She asks, and Even smiles slightly, nodding in the direction of Eva and the guy.

“I used to know him, when I went to Bakka. He’s kind of an asshole,” Even pulls a face, “Do you think I should I get Eva away from him?”

Noora looks back at the two of them, Eva’s still laughing, but she’s not moving herself any closer to the guy. Noora can generally tell when Eva’s going to end up kissing someone - and it doesn’t look like that tonight.

“No,” Noora says, “Eva can make her own decisions.”

Even’s mouth twists into an even bigger smile, “I’m sure she can,” He says, nodding sagely, “We’re all adults, here. Isak can make his own decisions too, apparently. It’s just that sometimes his decisions include making a mug of tea with hot water from the tap.”

Noora laughs, “Seriously? I’m not even that surprised.”

“Seriously,” Even’s eyes are sparkling, “Just ask Sana.”

“Oh my god,” Noora shakes her head, trying to imagine Sana’s face.

“Yeah, she wasn’t very impressed,” Even says, he sounds distracted, now; his eyes focused on something over Noora’s shoulder, “Hey, Eva.”

“Hey, Even,” Eva says, she presses close against Noora, dropping her head down and resting it on Noora’s shoulder. Noora leans back against her, smiling despite herself. “What are you two talking about?”

“Isak and cooking.”

Eva grins, “He’s terrible at it. One time, back when we were in Grefsken, he and Jonas tried to make Jonas’ mum breakfast in bed. She still tells the story about it, apparently no one’s ever seen toast that black before.”

“He can’t even boil water,” Even confirms, “He has other good qualities, though.”

He looks sickeningly fond. Eva shakes her head, lips pursed in an obvious attempt not to smile. To hide her face better, she twists into Noora’s neck, smile pressing against the skin there. Noora wraps an arm around her waist. Even’s eyes flick between the two of them, intensely focused.

“I’m going to go find Isak,” He says. Noora waves him goodbye.

She suspects that the fondness in Even’s face when he looks at Isak is pretty similar to the way she looks at Eva.

*

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” Eva asks, one night. Her mum’s away on business, again, and the two of them are in Eva’s room. Noora’s head is on Eva’s stomach, the rise and fall of each breath she takes making Noora feel sleepy and untethered.

“What? No,” Noora says, she puts a hand on Eva’s leg and squeezes, “I’m not friends with bad people, and you’re my best friend.”

“I’ve done a lot of bad things,” Eva says back.

Noora turns, looking up to where Eva’s lying, staring at the ceiling.

“A lot of people have done bad things, that doesn’t make them bad people. Isak did a bad thing to you in first year, does that mean he’s a bad person?”

“No,” Eva says, biting her lip.

“Even cheated on his girlfriend when he was getting together with Isak, do you know that?”

Eva’s eyes flick down to meet Noora’s, “I didn’t know that.”

Noora hums, “Yeah, Eskild told me. Does that make Even a bad person?”

“It’s not a good thing to do,” Eva says, “Cheating on someone.”

“No,” Noora agrees, “But it’s way more common that people think. You’re not a bad person because you did shitty things when you were a teenager, Eva. If that’s how life works, then there’s no one who’s good.”

Eva presses her hand into Noora’s hair, clutching tight enough that it pulls, just slightly. Noora lets her; would let her hold on forever if she thought it would do any good.

*

Noora wakes up the next morning in her own flat with hydrangeas surrounding the bed around her.

She walks through her room barefoot, trying not to disturb any of their petals.

*

“I’ve been doing some research,” Sana says, sitting down opposite her.

Noora looks up; they’re in the library, Noora reading over Chris’ Spanish homework. Chris is off in the cookery section, talking to a guy that Noora never took the time to get to know.

“Research on what?”

“On magic,” Sana says, she puts a book down in front of Noora. It’s dusty, the spine worn. It’s title reads:  _T_ _he Next Mutation: Magic and Other Things_.

“Oh,” Noora says, faintly, she touches the corner of the book lightly.

“It’s way more possible than you’d think, and more plausible. The research is still pretty hypothetical, though,” Sana shrugs, “I guess people don’t want to talk about it. Are you still getting the flowers?”

Noora nods, a tiny jerk of her head. She can’t look away from the book.

“Then I believe you,” Sana says. She puts her hand over Noora’s wrist.

Noora looks up at her and smiles.

*

Eskild throws a flower at her when she gets home.

“They’re everywhere,” He says, “I didn’t even know what a wattle was until a couple of months ago, now the whole of Australia might as well move in here.”

“I’m not controlling this, Eskild!” Noora says, flicking it back.

The look Eskild gives her is uncharacteristically serious.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

*

Noora has been trying not to think about how her and Eva spend more nights in each other’s beds than they do alone, anymore.

She’s not doing a very good job of it.

She doesn’t know if she wants to, anymore.

*

“You’ve never said anything about where you think the flowers are coming from,” Noora says, over the sound of Justin Bieber's latest album. Eva blinks, lifting her head from Noora’s lap and looking over at the vase on her desk.

Today, they have daffodils in.

“I don’t know,” Eva says, she puts her head back down and shrugs. The movement is jerky, it lacks the fluidity that Eva normally has, “I don’t want to offer you a fake theory.”

“I don’t need theories,” Noora says, “I know what it is.”

Eva laughs uncomfortably, “Don’t tell me, you think it’s magic, right?” Noora nods down at Eva, smiling. Eva frowns, “Sana’s going to laugh at you.”

Noora shakes her head, pushes the hair off Eva’s forehead, “Sana gave me a book. She’s done more research on the topic. It’s really plausible, you know?”

“Oh?” Eva’s voice sounds high, uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” Noora says, she lifts Eva’s hand, presses a kiss to the palm. Eva’s breath catches; it’s the most beautiful sound that Noora has ever heard.

“You know, Eva, I don’t think daffodils are really necessary.”

*

The next morning, Eva wakes her up with a kiss to her mouth. She tastes like toothpaste, and the two of them are smiling so much that it’s clumsy and uncoordinated.

In Noora’s vase, there’s a single jonquil.

*

The flower doesn’t die.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Meanings of the flowers mentioned in this fic, as per Victorian meanings:  
> \- Wattle: secret love  
> \- Chestnut bud: do me justice / learning from mistakes  
> \- Red tulip: perfect love  
> \- Hydrangea: gratitude for being understood  
> \- Daffodil: unrequited love  
> \- Jonquil: desire for affection returned 
> 
> The title of this fic comes from a Norwegian folk tale, "East of the Sun, West of the Moon". It doesn't bare (BEAR) any relevance to this story, but this story was initially, very, very different. Anyway, I've been thinking about that folk tale a lot. Incidentally, it is absolutely shameful I have never written a f/f fic before! I'm so embarrassed. 
> 
> If you have any questions, you can find me on tumblr @[eiqhties](http://eiqhties.tumblr.com). I swear I'm writing more fics.


End file.
